Melancholy on Mount Moon
by The Matter's Settled
Summary: Silver loses another battle to Lyra and retreats deep inside Mount Moon to sort out his feelings . However, is he really alone or does he just think he is? LyraxSilver. SoulSilverShipping.


_Author Notes: I will be trying to write a little more to enhance my skills. If anyone has any pairings, then I will gladly consider the suggestion._

**Melancholy on Mount Moon**

Silver couldn't figure out where it all went wrong.

Cold water was dripping off the stalactites deep in Mount Moon, forming shallow puddles of mud all around the Pokémon trainer, drenching his black jeans, tentatively and slowly climbing onto his wistful face. Earlier this morning, he had just lost another battle to Lyra, his annoying rival, the girl he hadn't even managed to beat once, even though he trained vigorously to do so.

He really didn't care anymore.

He really didn't care that his brand new jeans were soiled by all this blasted mud. He really didn't care that it was 2:30 in the afternoon and he hadn't eaten all day. He really didn't care that Lyra seemed to dominate him in battle, as if she was an imperialist power and he was a colony that only had access to primitive weapons. He really didn't care about anything anymore, except feeling better, except overcoming this horrible feeling of inferiority.

However, how could he do it? Lyra wasn't just superior to him in Pokémon battles, although that circumstance alone would be awful enough. Lyra was superior to him in life. She was relatively liked by people and he was a loner, a sort of social outcast that society tolerates but never truly accepts, probably because of his cold and unfeeling personality. Lyra gained the trust and respect of Professor Elm extremely quickly, allowing her to begin a Pokémon journey with his blessings and the only way he could get started was by pilfering the scientist's Pokémon, making him no better than a common thief. Lyra had a Pokégear full of numbers, a little something he noticed when she opened it to take a call during one of their battles, and his Pokégear had no numbers, not even a single number, although he suspected his tendency to treat people as nuisances instead of people had a little something to do with that.

Still, he should at least have one number. At least one person should understand that a facial expression ostensibly saying "leave me the hell alone," actually means "I am a little shy but I want to be friends." Silver laughed to himself, wondering how he became so weak as to want something as flighty as friends or companionship.

Anyway, he didn't want just anyone for a friend. For instance, take Youngster Joey, the idiot who incessantly blabbered on and on about his stupid Rattata. Being alone and friendless was preferable to hanging around that moron for two seconds. As a matter of fact, most of the people he met happened to be morons, albeit not blatantly obvious morons like Youngster Joey but nevertheless morons, people who had no special talent and were disgustedly content with being average.

Unfortunately most people appeared to be like that. They weren't necessarily useless people but Silver had high standards for companionship. It took a lot of effort to think of anyone who had any special talent at all. The only person who came to mind was….. Lyra.

And that fact bugged him, all the way down to the core, all the way down to the Mariana Trench of his soul. Just like he was better than the cornucopia of grunts he had to deal with on a daily basis, Lyra was better than him. However, her facial expression never said "leave me the hell alone". As a matter of fact, she was always exceptionally friendly, even when he was icily cold, almost as if his tough-guy act was translucent to her or something. There was no reason for her to be nice to him. However, she always was. She was basically saying, "Oh Silver, I am going to worm my way into your little heart and there's nothing you can do about it is there?"

It seriously pissed him off. Also, why did she have to smell so good every time they ran into each other? She was a trainer, a person like him who trampled across dusty fields and dirty mountains and camped out in the wilderness for goodness sakes. Regardless, she always smelled like peach and lavender, with a hint of coconut, a combination of subtle yet distinct perfumes and lotions. On the contrary, whenever he put on cologne it seemed to disappear within the span of an hour and he had to reapply the scent frequently to avoid smelling musky.

Her skin even absorbed lotions and perfumes better than his did. How could life be so unfair? And even though Lyra beat him in everything, she still wanted more; she still wanted his heart.

She requested his cold, brooding, melancholy heart. And what would she do with his heart once she got her tenacious claws on it? She would infect it with flowers and sunshine and inspiration and all that other stupid stuff that he didn't really want. Or maybe she would throw it away and laugh at him for being so weak. Either way the girl was incorrigible.

Silver tried to stand up, his eyes watery from an indiscernible mixture of cave water and tears, and he collapsed back down into the mud, emotionally and physically exhausted.

"Fine you win you stupid jerk," Silver yelled, covered in mud, his voice echoing throughout the walls of the desolate cave. "You've already taken my dignity, so go ahead and take my heart. Are you happy now Lyra? You're better than me. You've won."

Silver was breathing heavily after his tirade, silence filling the cave after his echoes dissipated in the cold air. Somehow, someway, the Pokémon trainer felt better. It was good to get those words off of his chest. Of course, he would never tell them to Lyra but there was a certain comfort, a serene grace, in speaking the truth. Silver, his energy almost miraculously restored, felt like a crushing burden had been lifted from his heart. He liked this honesty thing. If he wasn't so sensible, he would fly over to New Bark Town and confess his act of larceny to Professor Elm.

However his bliss was interrupted when he smelled a familiar redolence, a mixture of peach, lavender, and a hint of coconut. A huge lump started to form in the back of his throat and the boy started to hyperventilate a little bit.

It couldn't be her. It certainly wasn't her. It was definitely her.

And somehow a part of him was okay with that.

_Author Notes: Reviews are always appreciated. Of course, I want to thank everyone for reading!_


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